


Mechanophilia

by stillalivedoingscience



Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: Evil Wheatley, F/M, Masturbation, Mechanophilia, Robot Kink, Robot Sex, Smut, Testing - Freeform, chassis sex, chassis wheatley, solution euphoria, test euphoria, test withdrawal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 08:03:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 21,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8971153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stillalivedoingscience/pseuds/stillalivedoingscience
Summary: While in charge of the facility, Wheatley finds a program that produces some ...interesting effects on its test subject(s). Being written for portalkink, rating will change to M in the future. Pairing is chassis Wheatley/Chell





	1. Part 1 - Intro

**Author's Note:**

> I'm in the process of moving all of my better-written smut here. This was written summer 2014/spring 2015.

Lights glared down, blindingly white, from a window high above.

It had been twelve hours. Twelve, and now, the entire complex had adopted the sensation of a police station's interrogation room, or perhaps even a jail cell; where Aperture Science's oddly pristine walls had always given off feelings of imprisonment and everlasting captivity, today, the panel-clad walls barred down in stricter judgement than the test subject had ever seen yet.

It might have had something to do, she noted, with the newest addition to this far-from-streamlined set of test chambers—a great big, black monitor in each one, humming away with power and displaying lines of staticky interference overtop an eerily chipper blue-eyed construct's face.

The test subject—clad in (fittingly enough) a prison-style bright orange jumpsuit, which she'd shed halfway down her waist, and had tied it there—let her eyes pass briefly over the image of the personality core. She scowled. He made her itch, somehow—perhaps it was the way he was looking at her, his observation one hundred and twenty percent more obvious than his predecessor's; or maybe it was his voice that made her skin crawl, what with the way he retained that happy, deceitful tone when he spoke, as if he were casually chatting to her over dinner while she faced the dangers of the tests.

Most likely, though, it was because of his reaction to the test's solutions. Or rather, test, as she had only solved one of his, technically speaking—but that had been gross enough. She was admittedly quite confused and disturbed by his reaction, but understood that he was receiving some kind of intense pleasure from her ministrations—she didn't need to know anything more than that. That was enough information for her.

She breathed out slowly as she looked around, taking in the whine of the excursion funnel located in the center of the room, the rosy glow radiating from the button on the ceiling, and the distant chittering of Wheatley Laboratories' most brilliant creation—a half-turret, half-weighted storage cube hybrid monstrosity.

It was easy.

Especially for her—she was quite good at it by now. She had lightning-fast reflexes, sharp, eagle eyes, and a brain that was nearly hardwired for testing. She had no problem keeping Wheatley happy, not when she could solve them point-blank, almost immediately when he kept them relatively simple—which he would, she knew. He was too much of a moron not to.

In no time at all, she'd got the solution. She'd placed the weighted storage cube precisely on top of the checkered patterned square on the floor, and with a soft sound, fffop, the portal was placed with an explosion of orange. The funnel whined loudly as the cube drifted up, and Wheatley leaned into the monitor; but Chell was ready this time. Skin already crawling with anticipation, she focused all of her razor-sharp attention on finishing the test and plunged into the oddly muffled safety of the excursion funnel.

But it wasn't enough. "Auuuuughhhhh," he sighed in relief, his voice strained but low and gravelly, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, "Wow. Heh," he chuckled, "Well done, seriously. Why don't you two go on ahead, yeah? I'll just- I'll catch up with you."

Wheatley sounded absolutely exhausted. Pushing aside the unholy feeling his—to quote him directly—pleasure sounds had brought out of her, Chell swung the portal gun over her shoulder for safekeeping and strutted, as confidently as she could, out of the test chamber.

"Okay," she heard the potato mounted to the end of her portal gun whisper, "So the bad news is the tests are my tests now. So they can kill us." Great, thought Chell sarcastically. "The good news is? Well… none so far, to be honest. I'll get back to you on that."


	2. The Argument

The lift doors hissed shut, leaving Chell and her potato companion to the only bit of peace and quiet allotted during testing. With the potato's last words still echoing in her brain, she slumped against the side of the lift, letting the base of her skull knock gently against the glass. The portal gun was held limp in her right hand, turned precisely so that she could see the potato's golden lens. If GLaDOS had the ability to see what kind of expression was on Chell's face, she did not comment.

What are we going to do? Chell wondered in desperation. Her disgust with Wheatley's reaction to the tests' solutions came only second to her terror of his unpredictability and their absolute predicament. If GLaDOS couldn't think up a workable plan, how could she? Fair enough, the once-supercomputer-turned-potato-science-project hardly had the ability to utilize more than 1.6 volts of processing power in one go, which was a severe disadvantage to even her own human mind technically speaking, but Chell had the distinct feeling that she was still a lot smarter than she was.

"Hey." While the lift echoed with the sucking sound typical for pneumatics, the relative quietness was broken by the potato's voice. "We'll think of something. Or, more importantly, I'll think of something. I'm sure of it. Just play along for the time being."

Great consultation, thought Chell.

The lift arrived with the usual noise and Chell's metal heelsprings took her weight once more as she walked down the thoroughfare to the test chamber, glassy-eyed. She was going to test until she made a misstep, wasn't she. Or until the reactor core melted down, or until Wheatley decided to kill her... her mind was reeling. She felt tired, overwhelmed, hazy, and sick, but she simply sniffed loudly and marched on. Death may have been a casual misstep away, but escape surely was no more than a testing track away, with just a little luck and tenacity.

"Yeah, made this test myself…" came Wheatley's voice. Before he could even finish, Chell took a leap of faith with the sound of rebounding elastic from the curled heels of her boots and plunged straight into a funnel and turned to face his monitor. "Out of some smaller tests. That I found! Lying around. Got buttons, funnels, bottomless pits are involved… It's got it all, it's got it all, it's absolute dynamite!"

Chell snorted in spite of herself. Really, this moron had no idea how to build tests. It was, as he had said, a mashed together, dangerous mess of a test chamber. And, worse still, Wheatley's apparent exhaustion from the test euphoria had not yet left him. It sent another unexplained chill down her spine. Just what was it about his reaction that rubbed her the wrong way, like this? There was something terribly off about the entire thing. Her lip curled in disgust as she shook her head, trying to refocus on the test.

It didn't last long, though.

"Did you see that?" asked GLaDOS, as if she were actually expecting a reply from the silent test subject. "He's exhausted. It's been so long since I had experienced the—oh. That's right. You know nothing about solution euphoria."

Chell gave the smallest of shrugs and let a puff of air escape through her nostrils, momentarily flaring them. What the hell is solution euphoria?

"Well, the body he's squatting in—my body—has a built-in euphoric response to testing," GLaDOS said in a busy sort of voice, as if euphoric reactions were a matter of everyday conversation at Aperture Laboratories. "Eventually, you build up a resistance to it, and it can get a little... unbearable. Unless you have the mental capacity to push past it. It didn't matter to me, I was in it for the science. Him, though…"

GLaDOS didn't need to finish her sentence. The smallest of glances at the moron on his giant screen (why did he need to install those again, she wondered) proved that she was correct. Wheatley had no interest whatsoever in test results besides the physical side of things—and oh, was he interested in that, whatever that was. Euphoric response? Well, that sounded like—

"It's not what you think." The shifty voice she had used caught Chell's attention. It was almost… bordering on out of character, coming from her! "Seriously. Well… okay. It's not as bad as you think. Maybe. …But anyway, what was I saying? Yes—did you see him? He's tired. His system wasn't designed to handle the kind of—stimulus—that I was designed for, and that's good news for us. I think I have an idea. I know a way for us to use this to our advantage."

Chell did not like the tone of voice GLaDOS was using. Not one bit. If potatoes could generate mischievous, self-satisfied grins, she had a feeling that that would be the look on her potato companion's face, and GLaDOS fixing her with such a look? Well, she wasn't sure if she was in for a treat or if she should drop the gun and the potato down the pit as quick as she could!

GLaDOS did not elaborate, however, and left Chell to solve the rest of the test in relative quiet—aside from yet another outburst by Wheatley, where he first complained that she was not solving it quickly enough (which earned him a very scornful look in his direction, to which he did not react, at all) and then proceeded to try to assist her in cheating, which was downright insulting and she found herself a little too pleased as the moron all but screamed bloody murder in pain.

Then—finally—there was a small snicker of appreciation from GLaDOS. "Oh, this is going to go better than even I thought it would," she sighed, her voice oddly whimsical and full of the kind of pleasure that Chell felt sure could only accompany sadistic enjoyment, but the urge to scrap the potato down the pit and save herself vanished at the sound of Wheatley's heavy breathing.

"Never mind," he panted, "Never mind. Solve it yourself. You're on your own."

"Oh, we will," said GLaDOS with another chuckle. "Believe me, we will…"

Chell shook the gun. What exactly are you talking about?

She chuckled again before whispering, "All right. Listen to me carefully. Are you listening?" she paused, as if expecting, once again, the test subject's reply. "Because you are not going to believe what I am about to tell you."

There was a beat (at this point, Chell felt sure that GLaDOS was going for dramatic effect) and then the potato spoke. "Don't solve this test."

Where Chell had thought GLaDOS was being distinctly overdramatic, she had to admit, she was caught off guard. Don't solve the test? Such a thing would never have occurred to her. In principle, it did kind of make sense—it could buy them more time, right? But Chell was still confused as to why GLaDOS of all people should want to encourage her to quit testing! It seemed against the laws of nature! It was—it was defiance of—defiance of—!

"Science," said GLaDOS in a low, more serious voice, "has nothing to do with the moron's tests. It feels so wrong, to endorse a refusal to comply, but really—I mean, look around. This place is self-destructing. And him? Well, I'm not going to lie to you. If we're going to beat him, we're going to need to knock him down. We're going to need to make him suffer. He'll build a resistance to the euphoric response before long, but that isn't good enough. We need to build up that withdrawal, now."

Chell was beginning to see what she was getting at. She chanced a quick glance at the monitor—Wheatley's big, ugly face was still there, still leering as creepily as ever, still twitching in that odd way that made him look as though he were breathing—only, were her eyes playing tricks on her, or did Wheatley seem to be moving faster than he had been before?

He was tense, somehow, more strained, judging by his expression. He looked angry—not as angry as she had seen him in the past, but definitely frustrated, surely very hungry for something that he was not receiving.

She looked back down at the potato and gave a minuscule nod. "Good," whispered GLaDOS, satisfaction back full force in her voice. "Glad we're on the same page. Now… don't just sit here and stare at each other until somebody drops dead. You're going to have to make him need it. When I said 'don't solve this test', I meant don't finish the test. But go ahead and trick him all you'd like. One hundred science points if you get him to shock himself again," she laughed evilly.

Chell cocked a defiant eyebrow as her eyes passed over his screen. He did deserve it. He deserved to be denied what he most wanted. Now that GLaDOS had mentioned it, it seemed like the easiest solution in the entire world—why hadn't she thought of it before?

When the moron had first inducted her into his first-ever, comically simple plagiarized testing track, the thing that had irked her most had been the necessity of doing as he said. It had been the only apparent answer, to solve the test, and then to go back and try to solve it again as he liked, in an attempt to activate the pleasure response a second time around—thank god that hadn't worked, she mused. Yes, she had felt helpless and betrayed by him, and moreover, powerless—but she was starting to see, now. With minimal effort on her part, she could have him crumbling, helpless, being crushed by protocols.

It was so simple. The art of testing could easily be reversed. In a very long time by her standards (which must have felt like infinity to the sphere) she had the cube, she had the funnel, and she had her portals aligned perfectly and her finger on the trigger. One twitch and he'd have what he wanted, and he knew it, too. He leaned in, hungry, twitching worse than ever, and still somehow radiating the oddly endearing innocence that probably had something to do with the exact, soft baby blue of his iris.

The cube chittered beneath the button as Chell turned her back to it. She strode a few steps forward and began to finger the pedestal button in front of her, tracing the grimy cracks in its faded red surface. In that moment, there was silence aside from the rumble of the deconstructing facility while the testing protocols held Wheatley's tongue. He could do nothing but watch, and twitch, and wait.

One small step for a test subject… Chell breathed in and, with a wicked smile, pressed the button. One giant leap for science.

There was the resultant peal, and then the following fizzle of the cube vaporizing.

"Hey!" GLaDOS held in another laugh at Wheatley's distraught voice. "What did you do that, for?"

"Whatever do you mean?" replied GLaDOS in a poisonously sweet voice.

"You know exactly what I mean! You'd almost had it, there, you know you did!"

"Had what?"

"The bloody thing solved!"

"Oh, did we? I'm sorry, that was my fault. I didn't think that could possibly be the answer. It was too simple. So I told her to fizzle it and start over."

Wheatley let out a long, angry groan. "That's cheating," he complained.

"Don't flatter yourself," GLaDOS retorted, sounding offended. "No one in their right mind would have to cheat on this test. I merely remarked to her that I thought that this was far too comically simple to be the solution—a mistake on my part," she chuckled evilly, unable to resist the opportunity to make yet another jab at Wheatley's abysmal IQ, "As I had momentarily forgotten who it was who built this test."

"That was me!" called out Wheatley immediately, "I—hey! Wait a second!"

Even Chell gave a soft chuckle at the look on the moron's face. His eye shutters were narrowed and his pupil had contracted to a pinprick, giving him the most ridiculous, angry expression she'd ever seen in her life.

"Yes, I know it was," said GLaDOS finally. "That was kind of the point, because you are a—"

"Don't!" Wheatley whined in protest.

"Moron!"

"Auuuuuuugh!" he cried, flaring his side plates in exasperation. "I told you not to do that! I told you not to! I'm tired of this, and guess what! I'm the boss here, and I'm not listening to you until you solve this bloody test!"

"What a relief," said GLaDOS, "Because you're going to be silent for a long time, if that's the case."

Wheatley leaned into the screen, filling the entire thing up with his cyan iris. The effect was somewhat startling, Chell personally felt, and she took a step or two backward in spite of herself. It looked like he was about to try and climb through the monitor itself!

"Really?" yelled Wheatley, angry and distraught. "So after that, after all of that, you admit that you don't know how to solve my absolutely difficult test! You were lying! I knew it!"

"Oh, please. The only person here not likely to already know the answer is you."

Wheatley blinked rapidly before his eye shutters descended into another glare. "Not likely," he growled, his pupil shifting between the test subject and the potato. "I built this thing, I know the answer. Of course I bloody well do!"

"Prove it."

"Oh, come on! All you've got to do is put the cube on the buttaaaaaeeerrrrhhghhhhhhhhh!"

"Heh heh heh," chuckled GLaDOS, and Chell felt an inward twinge of amusement. "We don't care," she said dangerously over the sound of Wheatley's hoarse panting. "I already told you—we're not going to solve it anyways."

Chell took that as her cue and sat down, cross-legged, beneath the big red glowing button on the ceiling. She folded her arms across her chest and sniffed loudly. What she could see of Wheatley's casing from her position on the floor twitched violently in agitation and he stammered, sounding almost painfully distraught.

"But- but you have to solve it!" he gasped. She could almost pity him. "You have to! Otherwise you can't move ahead to the next one!"

"Look, moron," GLaDOS chimed in. Wheatley, surprisingly, did not react to the insult. "We don't. Don't you see? We don't have to do anything you want us to do. We don't want to move on to the next one. We want to get out, and put me back in my body, so I can stop the facility from exploding."

"No!" he cried. "I won't let you!"

"What other choice have you got? That itch isn't going to go away. In fact, it's only going to get worse the longer you wait."

"I don't care!" Chell bit her lip at the mounting desperation in his voice. "I don't care, I'll- I'll make you solve it! I'll bring in turrets! I'll fill that test with neurotoxin if you don't! Ha! What then, eh?"

GLaDOS's reply was a sigh of outright exasperation. "Then we'd be dead, you idiot. And then you'd have no one to solve your precious tests."

There was a very long silence.

"I—uh," said Wheatley finally, his voice gone quiet, "Did not think of that."

"Of course you didn't."

"You know what?" he shouted, anger and frustration back in full force, "I'll be right back. Okay? Don't move. Don't touch anything. I'm going to find a way to fix this, if it's the last thing I do. And when I come back—oooh, you'll be sorry! You'll wish you had solved this test straightaway, luv!"

There was a following chuckle from GLaDOS as her volume dimmed to a quiet whisper. "This is working better than I had expected," she said. "That little idiot doesn't know what he's gotten into. There's no way for him to get what he wants, unless he wants to let us out, of course."

Chell, however, was barely listening to what the potato had to say. Her eyes were locked onto the now-empty test chamber monitor, unease pulling at the back of her throat and making the hairs on the back of her neck stand upright. There had been something about the stare he'd fixed her with just before he'd left that she didn't like, not one bit. GLaDOS may have felt fully confident, but somehow, she could not shake the feeling that she had finally pushed him a little too far. He was already powermad, suffering some kind of apparent withdrawal, and bordering deranged—and to top it off, he really was amazingly stupid, sometimes. It all had the potential to quickly become disastrous, she was sure, if they weren't careful—add in the fact that the reactor core was overheating and even as she sat, clouds of dust and broken ceiling panels were raining down into the pit, and she felt sure that things were going to get a heck of a lot worse before they got better.

"Might as well take a break." GLaDOS's voice cut through her thoughts, sounding a little less reassured than she had a few minutes ago. Perhaps she, too, was having last minute reservations about the plan. Regardless, Chell's grip on the portal gun tightened—there was no going back now. Whatever would happen next, she'd be ready. She'd face it like she'd faced everything else thus far—with a locked jaw and teeth barred with determination. She could take whatever that moron was about to dish out.

Bring it on.


	3. The Installation

Wheatley could not keep still.

He was mad. He was so, so angry at the two women down in the test chamber. They'd deliberately drawn it out, made him sit up all expectantly waiting as if they were actually going to do it, and then they did not do it. They did nothing. They left him suffering from the foul, stinking promise of no release and the itch that went hand-in-hand with it while they were having a laugh, probably. At his bloody expense.

It was uncalled for! It was absolutely, tremendously disrespectful. And, if he were honest with himself, he was one hundred percent tired of being disrespected. He was angry, uncomfortable, itching his bloody brains out and now, the two women below had just decided not to solve his test, as if it were actually a bloody option.

Which it was not, for the record.

Not an option. He was fuming as he searched the files, muttering to himself bitterly. There were hundreds—bloody hundreds—of files to go through. Surely there had to be something on the itch and how to relieve it! Sure, She thought she'd got him trapped in quite the predicament, but Wheatley knew better. He knew that She had to have had some kind of way of dealing with the itch—there was no way she could concentrate through this feeling!

And what a feeling it was. At its best it was a light, crawling tickle, almost pleasant enough to feel nice. It was kind of reminiscent of the time he'd been attacked by the bird, although in that situation he'd been quite afraid—it was light and fluttery like feathery wings, if the feathers had been a lot softer and had been tickling about just under the joints where his handles had attached to his core body. But that pleasant, tickly sensation was short-lived as the programming had set up properly, beginning to fire compulsions at him that sent him into slight shivers as he had got used to the newfound sensation of being touched.

Because that's what it was like, during the times it was there but wasn't firing with ruthless determination. It was like having a finger trailing along the spine of his new body, resulting in further creeping, crawling sensations and more shivers—and a growing heat in his systems. It left him almost wanting more, as if the stimulation just wasn't enough.

When it did strengthen, it was when he had been made to wait for an end he could not yet fathom, for so long he could hardly think. At that point, everything had been driven right to the point of bloody aching, he'd felt tense and expectant and tight and hot, as though he'd found himself stuck somewhere very hot and many sizes too small for him. He felt almost claustrophobic, and panicky, and the thought of it never ending had driven him absolutely frantic.

It had affected his senses, too. Watching the testing somehow held his attention far better than anything else ever had. He'd never been one to sit still, admittedly, but protocols held him in place, fed him false patience that was definitely not his own—here and there, his own desperation for relief would overwhelm the protocols and he'd find himself shouting without meaning to, arching and shuddering in frustration.

Oh, but the pleasure—man alive, the pleasure!—made it all entirely worth the wait. It felt so good. It was stronger, deeper than any kind of pleasure he'd ever felt before, an instant explosion that drove straight through him to what felt like the most vital subprocesses he possessed, wiping his brain instantly blank in wake of the rush, filling him up. He had no control when that happened and he relinquished it willingly, fully losing almost every layer of consciousness in the pure, instant yes, ohhh, yeees! of it.

He needed it. The memory of it sent yet another crawling wave of the itch poking through him as he delved deeper into the mainframe, occasionally glancing at the monitor where he could still see the test subject sitting, looking rather bored, just beneath the button. Anger surged along the same pathways as the itch, feeding on it in the most intoxicating way he'd ever experienced. He did his best to stay positive, though. He was going to get another burst of it, whether the two women liked it or not.

And so, Wheatley searched. Searching for files about the itch did not work, but eventually he found a solution to that problem—apparently the bloody thing was actually called a test compulsion protocol—and had it at last.

Most of the information was useless to him. Corrupted, with chunks missing or omitted entirely, the only seemingly useful thing he managed to find was something clearly marked 'WARNING—DO NOT INITIATE UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE. Test Compulsion Protocol Compliance'. So naturally, he opened it as quickly as he could and initiated the process.

Immediately, he wished he hadn't—another curious sensation came over him, starting from the top portions of the cables that connected him to the rest of the facility, slowly creeping down through the joint at his middle and into the very edges of his core. It was like the itch, but different; it was a paralyzing feeling, and immediately he yelped, frightened. He couldn't move!

GREETINGS!

He wasn't quite sure if the message had been transmitted through text or audio. All he knew was that simultaneously, the letters appeared in his head while a voice—vaguely reminiscent of the announcer's—narrated.

AND WELCOME TO THE APERTURE SCIENCE TEST COMPULSION COMPLIANCE INITIATIVE. IN THE EVENT OF NON-COMPLIANCE WITH STANDARD TESTING PROTOCOL, THE TEST COMPULSION COMPLIANCE INITIATIVE WILL ENSURE THAT SCIENCE CAN STILL BE DONE, REGARDLESS OF ANY OUTSTANDING NON-COMPLIANCE RELATED ISSUES. CENTRAL CORE, PLEASE CONSULT THE MANUAL BEFORE WE BEGIN. AT ANY MOMENT SHOULD YOU WISH TO REVIEW THE MANUAL, A COURTEOUSY COPY HAS BEEN DOWNLOADED TO DRIVER "A" FOR YOUR CONVENIENCE. THE APERTURE SCIENCE TEST COMPULSION COMPLIANCE INITIATIVE THANKS YOU AND WISHES YOU THE BEST OF LUCK!

[WARNING—A HARDWARE UPDATE IS REQUIRED TO INSTALL . WOULD YOU LIKE TO INSTALL THIS HARDWARE?]

The final message remained, awaiting his answer. He chuckled lowly. He was utterly pleased with himself—he'd done it, he'd found the solution he was looking for, even despite Her reassurance that it was impossible—and happily accepted the procedure without even stopping to properly think about what it was he'd just read.

As soon as he'd done so, he tried to do a double-take. Hardware update? What in the name of bloody Science—

[WAITING FOR DRIVER INSTALLATION…]

It was too late. He still found his body to be frozen, which sent a flash of paralyzing fear through his system. He tried to struggle, but the program had overridden his motor control subroutines, and in panic he made a sharp swallowing noise as yet more words invaded his brain:

[DRIVER WAS INSTALLED SUCCESSFULLY. BEGINNING HARDWARE INSTALLATION…]

And then, from below him there was a burst of red light. Panic mounted as he recognized the pit—had he unintentionally activated some kind of core transfer?—and out came the maintenance arms. The apparatus connecting him to the ceiling descended, lowering him unwillingly into it, and Wheatley closed his eye, a string of words that never made it to his speakers tumbling through his mind, please don't hurt, please don't hurt, pleasedon'thurt—

The arms went inside of him, inside of the hole at the front of him, he felt them shove something inside and the resounding clunk it made with the back of the hollow space beneath his chest plate. He tried to squirm away, but it was useless, and a second later every sense was overwhelmed with the one thing he had been most keen to avoid—complete, agonizing pain.

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRGHHHHHHHHHH!"

He wasn't sure how long it had lasted for. It felt like bloody eternity, but eventually it did fade, leaving him dizzy with a throbbing, foreign ache settled somewhere around the center of his chest plate for company. He panted and groaned, and slowly opened his eye—and realized with a start that he could move again.

[DRIVER WAS INSTALLED SUCCESSFULLY. CALIBRATING…]

Well that's great, he thought sarcastically, rocking himself back and forth to try to throw off the uncomfortable ache the roughness of the maintenance arms had left over his casing.

[CALIBRATION COMPLETE. ALL FACTORY SETTINGS WERE SUCCESSFULLY DOWNLOADED. BEFORE YOU BEGIN, PLEASE CONSULT MANUAL FOR THE PROPER USE OF THIS HARDWARE.]

He was still blinking sluggishly by the time he caught sight of the woman and her potato still waiting patiently inside of the test chamber. Please consult the manual… well, if there was one thing he could do well, it was multitask. Read and observe Science? Not a problem for him. There was just one thing, though—he wasn't exactly sure how this new program was about to help the test subject get on with science. In fact… he glanced around rapidly, craning to see the apparent 'new hardware' that had been installed on him. He didn't see anything different about himself at all!

Wheatley made a shrugging motion with his chassis. He'd find out soon enough, he supposed. For now—it was about time the woman solved this bloody test chamber!

But as the word and the notion of the results the task promised entered his mind, Wheatley suddenly became aware of something very, very strange…


	4. The Solution

"What was that?"

The scream had caught both of them off guard. Where Chell had been resting with her back against the chamber wall, she suddenly sat bolt upright. Her eyes locked onto the big, black form of the empty monitor, but only the cascading lines of static interference winked back at her. As still and silent as a fox, her eyes narrowed. There were the following sounds of panting and a sharp gasp.

"What is he doing?"

Chell let her shoulders fall in a nearly imperceptible shrug. No idea… whatever the little idiot was up to, she would certainly have to wait to find out.

GLaDOS remained silent, undoubtedly just as still and tense as Chell herself was. They waited, and waited, and finally… there was some loud rustling, and then was speaking, although the monitor remained just as black and empty as it had been for the last thirty or so minutes.

"What is that," came the sound of his voice.

GLaDOS couldn't hold back a sharp scoff. "Really," she chided him, "How are we supposed to know? You have neglected to restore visual input to that monitor."

"That's—I, uh, well," he murmured, sounding very confused. "I didn't plan for this, that's… interesting. To say the least. Is that really stuck on, there…? What the—? I mean, it looks like some kind of... of adapter, if I'm honest, I don't really understand…"

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh!" said Wheatley, and his voice instantly lost the confused, quiet quality, which was replaced with a shiftiness that got Chell's attention at once. "'Ello! Didn't- didn't see you there. Almost forgot about you. My fault, sorry, my fault. Uhh… can you just hold on, for a moment, actually? If you don't mind."

He sounded weird—it was like they had caught him doing something rebellious or wrong. It was vaguely reminiscent of the way he'd always ask her to turn away from him while he 'hacked'. Whatever it was, though, was a mystery to both her and GLaDOS. And as long as that screen stayed off, she could not continue toying with him… nor would she find out what he was up to.

"Now, let's see here," he narrated an unseen task. "Instruction Manual, page one, index. Right. Chapter Onnneeee… oh. Oh, that's… …ohwow."

"You have got to be kidding me," whispered GLaDOS to her before she sighed. "Well… I guess it is for the better. It's about time he tried to maintain the reactor core. At least we're not going to explode, then. Probably."

Chell nodded solemnly in agreement.

"Okay, change of plan," Wheatley's voice suddenly boomed through the chamber and the monitor feed switched on to reveal his—ominously eager—face. "We're going to do things my way, now. See this test, here? This regrettably unsolved test? Yeah. You're going to solve that. You're going to solve it riiiiight… now."

Chell stared. Wheatley blinked and frowned. "Oh, come on! Auuughh, not your fault, not your fault. Perhaps it will just take a little longer than expected. Yes."

Chell crooked an eyebrow, but before she had the time to properly wonder what the hell he meant, GLaDOS was whispering again. "What is that…" she started, sounding equally offended and amused. Chell looked down at the golden-eyed potato before looking back up at Wheatley—where she thought GLaDOS's relatively tiny peripherals must have been aimed.

What IS that? was also the first thought to enter her brain.

Wheatley had settled back into default position on the screen, and was staring, rapt with attention. Hardly a glance showed her exactly what the potato was gaping at—a bright pink something had appeared beneath him, covering the bulk of the white plate located at the base of his core.

"Hey, moron," called out GLaDOS, her voice still full of barely-hidden amusement, "That's mine."

"Finders keepers," Wheatley glared. "So it's mine, now."

"I have no idea why you would want that. It's really quite ridiculous. In fact, it is so ridiculous that I am not about to waste any extra voltage trying to understand why you've put that on. I will say, though—I don't know how that is going to help us want to solve the test. Unless you've actually managed to fix the reactor core in your absence, which I doubt."

Right on cue, the announcer's voice echoed through the chamber. "Warning. Reactor core—"

There was a burst of static as Wheatley cut the line. "No! No!" he said, positively dancing in the monitor. "I took care of that myself. It's all fine. Now move along with the test, will you?"

"I thought so."

Chell's shoulders shook with a single huff of laughter. Then, she straightened, and locked her hand further into the back of the portal gun. There was no sense sitting around while Wheatley refused to crack. She knew well enough that there were many ways of making a test appear to be solved without actually solving it.

With a resigned sigh, Chell repositioned the tractor beam, approached the pedestal button, and pushed it. The cube dropped into the funnel with the usual peal, and Chell re-aimed the gun, preparing to redirect the cube toward her.

But movement to her left caught her eye and she looked over to see Wheatley in his new, lurid-pink whatever it was, readjusting the camera angle. A slight crease formed between her eyebrows as she stared at him, wondering what the hell he'd done to himself and why—it looked like some kind of- of apron, or something. It was hard to tell, because the monitor was quite far away from the platform she was standing on, and Wheatley just wouldn't keep still.

"Oo, brilliant." His voice had taken on a bit of a throaty quality, and reluctantly she was reminded of the solution euphoria he was promised at the—unlikely—conclusion of the test. "Brilliant, yes, go on, now…"

His huge form was leaning into the screen, not so far as to obscure everything aside from his vibrant iris, but enough that she could see him straining. It also brought a little more of the stupid, pink apron into view, and she had to hold back a snort of laughter. What an idiot, she thought to herself. An apron, honestly. And GLaDOS had said it had been hers! Although, that bit did make sense. So delicious and moist…

But why was Wheatley wearing it?

With a subtle shake of the head, Chell collected the cube and looked up at the cube above her head.

"Come on…"

A shiver chased itself up her spine. Why did he have to do that? It was bad enough that he had chosen to display himself like that on the big screens, but why couldn't he just be quiet? Chell may not have had any human interaction in what was probably centuries, but even she could figure out what that rather husky tone of voice Wheatley was using meant.

"Come on…!"

"You're not going to actually do it, are you?" asked GLaDOS, sounding stern. Chell shook her head. "Good. I thought you'd let me down there, for a second."

Her eyes flicked back to the image of the sphere displayed on the screen. She didn't mean to stare—the mere fact that this was what he seemed to be going for made her reluctant to look at him at all, but she was standing beneath the button with the cube in hand and god damn it she couldn't help it.

She was under a lot of pressure. The facility was deconstructing; GLaDOS was fully expecting their plan to work, which thus far it had not; she was literally right at the end of this test, standing with the solution basically in her hand; and Wheatley was watching, staring, and twitching, and very obviously crazy to get her to solve it.

And, moreover, she was beginning to find that she kind of liked that.

"Errrughhh," the sphere groaned, and instantly her eyes flicked back to his screen where his optic was rolling in its socket, "What do I have to do to get you to do this for me? I'm not asking a lot, here, all I'm asking for is for you to solve a simple test! It's not hard, is it, and you're standing there like you have no idea what to do next, when we both know you know the answer, luv! Now solve it!"

He'd filled the screen with his eye at the last second before backing away, and that was when she noticed that he looked odd. Beforehand, whenever she'd looked at him it had been with fatefully downcast eyes and small glances—she'd never stared or had a really good look at him. But now that she thought about it, it didn't seem right not to look him straight in the eye—she was defying him, here! And he should damn well know it!

Momentarily, though, she was distracted by something else. This was weird. At first, she'd wondered why on earth he was wearing the apron—but now, unless her eyes were playing tricks on her, she could quite plainly see that there was something in behind the apron that he was using the apron to hide.

It did not seem to be a direct part of his chassis; otherwise there would have been no point in wearing the thing, after all. Nor did he seem to be directly affected by it, though now that Chell had noticed it, she couldn't understand why she hadn't seen it before—it was pulling at the fabric at his front quite a lot, which didn't make sense, either—why had he tied the cloth so tight, then?—but then again, nothing the moron did made any sense.

He must have caught her looking at it, however, for a second later he ducked his optic down halfway into his casings so that she couldn't even see the bottom half of it. It must have worked for him, though, because a second later he looked back up at her, eye cocked and grinning, and said, "Wow. Look at that, eh! Even I didn't think it would get this big!"

Chell felt herself flush, although she was not sure why. "What?" said GLaDOS in confusion, and then, "…Oh. …Is that—?"

The potato had spoken uncharacteristically slowly, in a voice that made the hairs on the back of Chell's neck stand on end.

"Is that what, exactly?" replied Wheatley, dropping his optic shutters into a glare. "S'not for you, that's what it is. It's none of your business, actually."

"That is MY body, moron! If it's no one's business, it's none of yours!"

Taken aback by how angry she suddenly sounded, Chell accidentally disengaged the portal device's energy manipulator. The cube dropped to the ground with a very solid thunk.

"It is so!" yelled Wheatley, just as angry.

"It is NOT! And if you've done what I think you've done to it…"

"I didn't do anything to it!"

"Don't lie to me! You've done something! What did you do!"

"Nothing!"

Chell was staring back and forth between the two, unsure of what to make of the sudden change of events. She felt out of the loop; clearly she was the only one present with no clue as to what was going on.

"Moron," said GLaDOS in her most dangerously quiet voice, "You do realize that not everything in that system is mine, right? There are some—very delicate programs—that should be run with caution. And some that should never be run at all. Under any circumstance."

"Like what?" asked Wheatley, trying to sound nonchalant.

"I think you know which ones."

"Nooooo. No I don't. But… uh, not saying I did, but I if I were to, hypothetically speaking only, of course, install, um, a certain program, that said- uhhh, what did that say again? What's that say? Oh—'do not initiate under any circumstance', what would happen if I did that, then? Just went ahead and installed it anyway? Because it sounds helpful, if I'm honest."

"Oh, you idiot," she groaned. "You know, for a little idiot built to make stupid mistakes, I'd have thought you'd found it in you to maybe once not do the worst decision possible, but I was wrong. That's it. We're all going to die, and that is not sarcasm. That is solid, believable fact."

Chell swallowed hard—maybe it was her imagination, but she rather felt like the potato's golden-yellow optic was suddenly looking in her direction. Was GLaDOS seriously blaming her for this?

It's not my fault! she wanted to say. Really, how could she have foreseen this? It wasn't like she told Wheatley to open that program—whatever it was? And now, they were all going to die? Seriously? How could she be sure of that?

Wheatley was silent for a second. "No, we won't," he said finally. "We won't, because I've got an idea. I think I know how to fix this place. And according to this log—this itch is going to be taken care of in about three minutes."

"How do you know that?" challenged GLaDOS. "And oh, great. Just what I wanted to hear from you. Another idea. Well, at least we won't have to wait too long, then. Let's see… any last reservations before you die? Anything you have to say? Any apologies you want to make?"

The potato had, once again, been looking at her. Chell shifted awkwardly on the spot and kept silent, fully aware of what she'd meant with the last part. No, she was not about to apologize to her. Maybe only when—and if—they got out of here alive.

"No? Can't say I'm surprised. My turn. Let's see, here… oh. No. I was going to say that I'd wished I'd got more science done, but in reality I've had a pretty good life. Though I could have died without having been turned into a potato. That's really unfortunate. I could have gone without being murdered, too."

Chell rolled her eyes.

"You know what?" the potato's voice dropped to a whisper, and she did not like the bitter hopelessness GLaDOS was having trouble keeping out, not one bit. "He did say we've got three minutes left. I know things look bleak, but there's still a chanced he's botched the software installation process. Maybe it won't work. Maybe we can find a way out. Solve this test for him—give him what he wants. It can't hurt us, after all… and if he has installed it correctly, solving his tests is going to be the least of our worries."

Chell frowned and nodded sadly. She still didn't fully understand what the potato was talking about, but GLaDOS was rarely so pessimistic unless the situation actually called for it—and further, she had sounded afraid. GLaDOS was never afraid. Yet another tingle raced down Chell's spine. What had Wheatley done?

The energy manipulator sucked the cube into its field with a twitch of her finger and Chell turned and let it hover within the translucent blue beam. She had sounded so hopeless. She turned to Wheatley, barely registering the sound of his voice as he began to babble in anticipation—that was, until she felt something strong and invisible tug at her in a way she'd never quite experienced before.

It was not a physical tug. Something had pulled at her very being, the intertwined strands that made up her willpower, and all of her senses felt momentarily sharpened before it receded, leaving only a piqued interest and further desire to solve the test. It was just a trigger fire away—Wheatley, too, was aware of this, rolling his eye, squirming, his body arching to fill the screen and the last thing she saw before she pulled the trigger was that strained, mysterious bit of fabric at the front of him, and she'd had half a second in which her brain was full of curiosity and wonder and this very strange hopefulness—and then the cube had the button pressed down fully, the test completed and Wheatley made a very, very distracting moaning noise and the front of him where she'd been looking, that straining taught fabric was suddenly soaked right at the tip and the spot turned a deeper shade of pink, which spread as the fabric quickly absorbed whatever moisture was seeping out of him at the same rate as the very …relieved moan was.

Well.

"Oh, well done," said Wheatley, with an expression that clearly read satisfaction, and a few nods. "Well done. See, luv? Not too difficult. Not too hard. For you, at least. Heh, heh…" his optic lowered to look down at his front again as he chuckled. "See you in the next chamber, then."

She almost swore he'd winked at her.

"Okay," said GLaDOS in the most resigned voice she'd ever heard come out of the potato as Chell made her way out the exit and into the lift. "Let's get this over with."

The doors hissed shut and the lift departed. She swallowed hard and nodded, trying to remain as deadpan as usual. Deep down, though, something inside of her had shifted at her very core—she felt much, much too happy at the prospect of solving yet another test. Especially if he was going to make a noise like that and leak all over the place when she'd solved it.

It was foreign and illogical and it felt so entirely wrong, but it felt like some part of her had been awakened when she'd solved the last one. And now it called to her, and she couldn't help it, she needed to solve the next…

And the next…

And maybe another few more after that…

Let the games …begin.


	5. Intro #2

GLaDOS's worries had not let up by the time they had ascended the stairs into the next room. Nor had the core feelings Chell had begun to experience in the last test; the sound of Wheatley's voice greeting her with paramount enthusiasm sent her inside winding into what felt like a tight, twisting coil. It was a feeling she could not yet place, but she did know that it aided focus of a different kind—she was preoccupied with him, for some ungodly reason.

Maybe it wasn't that unprecedented. Maybe it was understandable. Maybe it had everything to do with innocent curiosity because she still wasn't sure what she'd seen in that last chamber.

Something deep down told her that that wasn't it, though.

"Coming, coming!" he'd practically shouted. "I'm coming, don't start yet, don't start yet!"

She could almost imagine him up there in his lair, fiddling with unseen controls in an attempt to get the test chamber fully online before she entered. She almost hoped that everything had gone back to normal, somehow—that she wasn't about to be greeted with the sight of him in that idiotic pink apron, which (she tried very hard not to remember this part, because it heightened the feeling of gnawing anticipation in her stomach) was probably still damp from whatever it was that had oozed from the—whatever that was underneath—that he'd somehow got stuck to his front.

Which happened to (unfortunately) be the first thing she saw when she entered the chamber. At least this time, whatever apparatus was beneath the cloth was hidden and not straining at the still-damp fabric.

"You're not going to believe this," he said, positively bouncing with excitement on the screen, "I've found hundreds—hundreds—of perfectly good test chambers, just sitting here! Filled with skeletons, shook them out, good as new!"

The potato's reply was lost beneath an intense rumble as Wheatley mashed two test chambers together. Chell staggered, nearly losing her footing, only supported by the long fall boots as ceiling tiles rained down from the collision.

"Aaaaand, there we go!" he said, as though nothing had happened. "Be honest, you can't even tell, can you? Seamless."

He left them to it.

Chell couldn't concentrate. That feeling was back in full force, turning her normally smooth movements jerky and semi un-coordinated. She could hardly even think up the solution to this test, as simple in concept as it probably was. Executing it was going to be a challenge, though, she knew.

"Are you okay?" asked GLaDOS, and Chell allowed her eyes to flick down to the potato for the smallest moment. Her tone of voice was funny, it was almost as if she knew exactly how Chell was feeling. "Listen," she continued very seriously, "No matter what happens… I am still going to try to find a way to get us out of here, but I can't do that unless you help me."

Chell cocked an eyebrow at her. Why wouldn't she try to help her? She wanted to get out of here, too!

"That sounds strange," she admitted tenuously. "But the moron's done something, and I wasn't kidding. We are all probably about to die." There was a pause, in which Chell continued to stare down at the potato. "I did say probably, though. There is a small chance you'll be fine. Even I don't know how this new program the moron has initiated is going to affect you… but, unless you can push past the sensation, I think we're in big trouble."

Sensation? Was GLaDOS referring to the mounting feelings of distraction she was experiencing?

"I know things look bleak," she said finally, "But you have to try. If you can get me somewhere where I can access the system, I think I can find us a way out. For now, though, you'd better continue with the test."

She sounded worried. And with a pang, she understood. She was worried, too.


	6. The Itch

It was all fine—mostly—until she'd returned to the anterior end of the chamber with the cube.

She was feeling quite hot. Beads of sweat were shining on her forehead and she was uncomfortably aware of how sticky and muggy her clothes felt. Sure, they had been designed for maximum comfort and ventilation and she could not recall ever having an issue with them beforehand, but suddenly she could hardly stand the feeling of the fabric against her skin. She almost felt more receptive, somehow—the heightened sensations seemed to be caused by this nearly imperceptible trickle running down her spine in waves, spreading from her brain to her chest and belly and finally, down into her groin.

The odd feeling peaked when she looked up at Wheatley. There he was, staring just as intensely as ever. Though he did not appear to be as strained or angry as he had been in the last chamber, Chell could definitely see edginess in the way he was moving. At the eye contact, Wheatley's optic rolled.

"Ooh, you brilliant girl." He hadn't said it loud, but she'd distinctly heard it, she was sure of it. He rocked forward a little, and Chell was instantly reminded of the pink apron and the piece on his front—once again visible—which seemed to be enlarging as she looked, lengthening somehow, pulling at the still-damp fabric, vaguely reminiscent of—

Chell leapt backward in surprise, her heartbeat beginning to pound inside of her chest. Now that she realized, the shape of the thing, the positioning, everything, either she really was going crazy or Wheatley had somehow gotten himself what was quite plainly a—

"Oh, I was wondering how that hardware would function," said GLaDOS loudly and sarcastically. "Not that I would ever have acquired that even ifI had been an idiot enough to initiate it. I'm not sure how exactly it would have worked for me, though I don't intend to find out. I don't feel the need to degrade myself to that level. You, though? Well, you were already a gross little sphere. Adding synthetic human reproduction organs to you is actually a pretty good metaphor for your entire existence."

"Oh, what?" whined Wheatley in shock. "What d'you mean by that?"

Chell would have been amused but instead she just felt suddenly fascinated. So it really was as she'd thought. This explained everything. It fit a little too much, perhaps, she thought as she remembered the, er, 'reactions' Wheatley had been having to the test solving even before he'd returned with this new… apparatus. GLaDOS had said she'd been in it for the science, but him… well.

"Exactly what it sounds like, moron. In layman's terms, I mean that that thing is probably bigger than your brain is."

His optic darted down to his front again. "Well that's not nice, is it," he said as he straightened and refocused on Chell. "Though, if I'm honest, it's probably correct."

His voice had dropped a few octaves as he said this, looking at her with a heavy top shutter. The combination made her hips twitch involuntarily, and she stared down at herself immediately, nonplussed. That had never happened before. What was going on with her?

Mounting anger instantly melted away as he continued. "Yeah, pretty massive," he positively drawled, sounding laid-back. "Pretty enormous." He shifted on the monitor, leaning away, and Chell felt her mouth go instantly dry as the entire screen filled with pink—god, she couldn't help it any longer, she was staring with her mouth half-open in shock and fascination at the sight of the 'hardware' underneath, which seemed to grow before her very eyes. Oh, god… "Not tiny little Wheatley anymore, eh, luv?"

He lowered himself back into the default position on the screen, eye shutters narrowed into what was quite plainly a smug grin. "Heh heh heh," he chuckled. "Who's the one with all the power now, hmmm? Who's got you trapped in here until they're done with you?"

Chell's teeth were clenched so hard they felt as though they were about to break. It had never, ever got to her like this, his voice, his movements—he was talking so quietly, so smoothly, and her throat was so stuck that it was hard to breathe, and even if she had wanted to say something, she didn't think she could have made her voice work anyhow.

"Cat's got your tongue, luv. Tell you what. Let's step it up a notch." There was a series of rapid beeps. "There. That should do it. How about that, eh? That's me, controlling that nice little vapor that's going to make you break down and beg for me to want you and help you and forgive you, like you should have been, all along. 'said I shouldn't turn it up so high, but you deserve that, don't you? You deserve what you're going to get, luv. And, for the record…" he seemed to stretch again and Chell's eyes followed him, her irises fully dilated. "I don't help smelly humans who don't help me."

She'd never felt like this before. It was an intoxicating heat and she felt glued to him, helpless, completely at his mercy. He was bringing her to her knees, just with the look on his face. It was undeniable attraction, swelling, consuming her—she'd never even thought of him as attractive before but holy hell she could not keep her eyes off of him. Something had slid into place in her brain and, even though Chell had largely remained passive when it came to men for the majority of her life before Aperture, she found herself locked in completely. And that piece on his front, and what it could mean, what it did mean—oh, she wanted to see it. She wanted to see it at the very least, pull that stupid apron off of him, slowly reveal what was underneath—maybe even run her hands along the white, smooth plate underneath… it looked so, so smooth…

Her senses had sharpened to the point of aching. Or maybe they only ached because the lack of stimulation was beginning to take its toll on her. Keeping still was becoming unbearable, and before she knew what she was doing she was sinking to her knees and removing the gun, palming at the part of her that felt the most urgent and tight and hot.

"And also, luv…" Wheatley positively purred at the sight of her finally submissive on the floor. His eye was shining brightly, and he'd leaned forward, staring fondly down at her, proud. "I'm not even close to finished with you. Like I said. I found hundreds of test chambers back here. Hundreds. And we're going to solve them all."

Chell swallowed hard, and licked her lips thickly.

"That's right," his voice was soft. His optic flickered with each syllable from behind his heavily lidded eye. "I'm going to see to that, you know. That you finish. All of them. Starting with this one, of course."

He spoke as if he wanted to imply that he would not stand for the kind of shenanigans she had attempted in the last chamber, and fully expected her to solve the test right away. Only, testing was becoming a nearly impossible task, and Chell felt as though her eyeballs had been crazy glued to his screen… more precisely, the hidden bit that was, for all the care Wheatley had taken to make sure this part remained hidden, protruding enough to form a very solid lump.

Would-be panic flickered dimly at the back of her mind, but she felt too hazy and drunk on this newfound desire to make much of it. For Chell knew what the feeling must be—she was an excellent problem solver, after all—and although she had not really experienced it as anything that had ever grown over a mere tickle of an itch, she knew it was desire. Full, blazing sexual desire, one hundred and ten percent directed at the not-so-little moron, judging by the way her hips jerked forward as she recounted his reactions to the solution euphoria, and her brain automatically went into overdrive.

That first test.

The sheer surprise he'd expressed. The suddenness of it; how that cube had dropped right onto the button and released the solution euphoria in what had to have been an extremely blinding burst of pleasure of the likes Wheatley had obviously never experienced before. And she'd seen it, all of it… it wasn't as though the moron had any reservations about lack of privacy. The shout-y moan he'd made had felt extremely embarrassing back then, but remembering it now had her face fully flushed. It had been so overwhelming for him, she saw it on his face, the loss of control and pure bliss… the ohhhh, yes, ohhh. Bordering absolutely overpowering, he'd been greedy enough not to care how strong it was, and had immediately craved more as soon as it was over. He just couldn't get enough.

And right now? Neither could she…

He'd leaned forward into the monitor again, so that his front was exposed and his faceplate had to tilt down at her to keep her in view. "Yeah," he drawled, "You're going to solve it, luv. And I'm going to love watching it… already am, if I'm honest." His optic moved lower to look at his lurid pink, very pronounced front. "It's pretty obvious. Isn't it. That I'm loving it."

The smile on his face told her he meant exactly what she'd thought he'd meant.

"Yes, yes, we get it," said GLaDOS, sounding disgusted. "This is the grossest thing I have ever seen. I'm going to have to do an extensive memory wipe after this is over. If we survive. Which we probably won't. Euuugh, I cannot believe that this is going to be the last thing I ever witnessed."

Wheatley's optic narrowed. "It's not gross," he said sternly. "It's science. And anyways, she likes it! She likes it. Just look at her face."

He was smiling again. Chell tried valiantly and failed to hide the blush sweeping across her cheeks and to look anywhere but Wheatley's—for lack of a better word—groin.

"She does not like it, moron." GLaDOS sounded as though she was at the very end of her patience. "You did this to her. I bet she hates you for it. Even more than she did before, if that's possible."

"Oh, yeah? Is that right?" he growled and turned to Chell. "She doesn't know what she's saying, does she? Can't keep your eyes off me, can you, luv. I'm too bloody fetching for you to handle. Driving you absolutely mad, aren't I!"

GLaDOS made a pained noise. "Even if she did like robots, you're ugly. And stupid. And not her type."

"You're lying!"

"No, I'm not."

"Yes! Yes you are!"

"No, I am not lying, you imbecile!"

"Not listening! Hey—oi!"

"What the—?"

Chell had hardly been listening to the two robots bicker. Tense, aching, and locked into an almost dream-like state, she'd been wriggling her hips while the bots' attention had been diverted, and had managed to loosen the knotted jumpsuit arms around her waist and had pushed the fabric a few inches down to expose the hem of a pair of light grey, Aperture-branded panties before either of them noticed what was going on.

"What are you doing?" they asked in unison.

Chell was unfazed, and with a prolonged unzipping sound, she had the jumpsuit pants hanging down around her thighs.

"This is it," said GLaDOS flatly. "This is it. This is the end. You've gone insane. Haven't you. He's finally cracked you. I didn't even think that was possible."

"Ha!" rang Wheatley's shout of laughter. "I did something you couldn't do! Must have been my devilish good looks!"

"Don't flatter yourself. That's not something to be proud of, moron," said GLaDOS in exasperation. "Especially not when she's the only person here capable of actually saving our lives."

Chell, however, was not listening.

Her pupils were fully dilated, flickering rapidly between the front of her grey panties and the sight of Wheatley on the screen. Exposing even just this one, small part of her privates and her dignity had her pulse beating faster inside her neck. Each breath was deep, and slow, and somehow more sensual than normal as she waited for him to notice, her hand poised at the very top of the elastic waistband. Even just the feeling of her warm hand resting there made her feel evermore strained and swollen inside.

She wanted this.

She wanted it badly.

And furthermore, she didn't think she actually even had the ability to solve the test before she'd got a little relief herself.

Wheatley was blinking rapidly on the screen. "Oo, look at that!" he called out innocently. "What's that you're doing, then?"

"That's none of your business!" GLaDOS sounded torn between shock and horror at Chell was about to do and a desire to dissuade Wheatley's behavior. It didn't work, however.

"Ohhhh, yes it is. Yes it is. I'm in charge, and I'm watching, therefore, it is my business. And I think… I think I want to see this part."

"I don't," she said quietly.

"Go on, luv," Wheatley made a motion that was the closest he could get to winking, "I fixed the reactor core. So we can spend a little more time together in here, before we move onto the next. That's what you want, isn't it? A little break? A little time to yourself, then?" He leaned in and smiled.

Chell blushed lightly. Was it that obvious to him what she was about to do, or was he clueless, and had just said that by coincidence?

"He's lying about the reactor core," whispered GLaDOS uncertainly. "I… well, there haven't been any warnings in a while. But there's no way he could have fixed it. He's too stupid…"

Chell's breath came a little faster. She shrugged, slipped her right hand out of the back of the gun, and slipped it slowly beneath the hem of her underwear, sparing only the smallest of glances at the deep gold, flickering optic.

"I hate you, you know that? I hate you so much."


	7. The Scratch

GLaDOS remained silent through most of it.

It was, however, the most disapproving silence the AI had ever given her, but Chell pretended not to notice.

She was kneeling on the chamber floor, sleeves tucked under for extra padding. Her jumpsuit pants hung strained around her thighs between her spread legs while her right hand dipped deeply down in smooth, long strokes, building the pressure. Her eyes were half-hooded as she looked at Wheatley, who was staring back with wide-eyed, innocent interest. She fiddled around, unable to keep her hips from rocking up into each slow stroke that she deliberately kept light enough to be just a tickle—the feeling of aching pressure changed from uncomfortable to fantastic with the additional stimulation. It seemed that this was exactly what her body needed.

And, with that notion and an involuntary lip bite, she spread her legs a mite wider, readjusted her fingertip to rest just atop the smallest, most sensitive button-like bit, stared dazedly at his face, and let her imagination take over.

The first, most exciting bit came when he exposed himself. She found she liked imagining him doing it on camera, first—the moron was so adorable, and clumsy and dumb that she couldn't see him removing the apron without a bit of a fight. He struggled with it, trying his best to keep her from noticing he was having trouble with it, glancing at the screen in embarrassment and discomfort because he was so clearly aroused and frustrated that he couldn't get it off and the damn thing was rubbing in what was surely (if that thing was as sensitive as she hoped it was) an equally pleasing and painful way.

But when it did come off, and he re-centered the camera proudly, and he was not the only thing that looked very ah, proud… oh, she loved that. The pad of her index finger began to rub at herself more feverishly. The pressure was still getting worse, and Wheatley was not helping… he looked so damned cute, with his eye all tilted and curious and oh. She couldn't wait to explore him. First, she wanted to finish, though. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd had an orgasm…

She blinked and breathed deeply before reopening her eyes, trying to focus. If she wanted it—which she did, oh—she had to focus, but it was almost impossible.

His cock was the perfect size, metal and shiny and large but not too large, and she breathed in sharply as the fantasy turned to the events that would happen at his lair—she was lying down comfortably, and he wiggled himself between her legs, clumsy and greedy and just as adorable as he'd been when they were friends. She really, really ached, in the fantasy and in real life as he positioned himself at her entrance as best he could—it was hard for him, as he had no hands. It just made him more endearing, though, and that was somehow exciting—he looked nervous and unsure if he should continue.

Feeling more strained than ever, she tried to rub up against his chestplate, desperate for a little stimulation but he pushed inside then, sending her back arching immediately as he kept pressing until he was nearly at the hilt of the thing where it disappeared into the depths of the hole at his front.

Oh, Wheatley.

In the test chamber, Chell was biting the knuckles of her free hand, her other hand busy trying to apply as much stimulation to her clit as he could. She had to finish, oh, it was getting bad, it was getting really bad and worse the longer she thought about him inside her and the longer she looked at him. Yes. Yes, Wheatley, please, oh…

She was so close, and she felt her face grow hot as she continued, her body and mind reduced to an almost primitive state as her breath quickened. Oh, he'd thrust hard, she knew, hard and deep and satisfying, because he'd want his solution, too… and she wanted to see him come again, see that cute little sphere come so hard and his nice, not-so-little body would arch gently up between her legs and the most delicious, breathless sigh of satisfaction would spill from him…

That was hot. She felt a great surge of pleasure that made her inhale sharply, and, still staring, almost through a haze she watched the real Wheatley's eye narrow as if he were focusing and she loved it. The pleasure continued to build for a few seconds before it burst and she was left gasping and shuddering, trembling on her knees in the chamber floor, her chest jutting forward as her back arched and her chin rose as finally her eyes squeezed tightly shut.

It receded far too quickly. With a final gasp, she heard Wheatley's voice. "What's that, what's happening, oh my god is she okay, is she—she isn't—?"

"This isn't happening."

"I assure you it is, and she's- oh god, she's dying, look at her, quick, do something!"

"She is. Not. Dying," GLaDOS positively growled. "She's having an orgasm, you idiot!"

"I—what? What in the name of bloody science is an orgasm?"

"I cannot believe this is happening."

Chell's breath was still coming in heavy gasps as she fell forward onto her hands, trembling a little. Wow… it had been so, so long since she'd last felt like that. And honestly? That had been pretty good.

She listened to the robots argue for another minute—GLaDOS insisting she was fine while Wheatley babbled on and on in a frenzy, convinced she was hurt—before she got shakily to her feet, tugged her jumpsuit pants back around her waist, zipped up the fly and wiped the residual sweat off her brow.

"Oh, would you look at this," said Wheatley, sounding a little cross. "Still alive, are we? What, did you think that was funny, having me on, like that? Well, I'd thought you were dying, miss. Having a seizure, or something. She said otherwise, though… she said you were having a- an, um, orrrr… ganism?"

Chell fought to stifle her laughter. "Orgasm," repeated GLaDOS, sounding as equally mortified as disgusted.

Wheatley's attention was focused on Chell. "What's that, then," he asked GLaDOS, still staring Chell up and down, like he really could not believe that she was alive. "That word. What's that mean. Orgasm. I want to know what that means."

GLaDOS read Chell's mind. "Look it up, moron."

"It doesn't say anything, I already tried that!"

"Oh, he has safesearch on," whispered GLaDOS, sounding severely done with the entire situation. Chell thought a rib or two of hers might crack from trying not to laugh. "Okay," GLaDOS continued bracingly, "Orgasm is the release of human sexual tension. There, I said it. Happy?"

"Not particularly," said Wheatley, glancing down at his front (which was still hard, Chell noticed with an unpleasant jolt around her midriff) with an expression that looked as close to a grimace as a core with no real face besides a single big eye could come. "But that's beside the point. Sexual tension, huh? Didn't know you could get rid of that, by yourself. Seems a little unfair, actually," he frowned, "A little like cheating."

Chell shrugged. "It was fair play," said GLaDOS, causing the test subject to look sharply down at her. It was the potato's turn to practically shrug. "Well, I guess I should be honest with you," she whispered. "I didn't know how to break this to you, but I suppose you probably already know. You're not stupid, after all."

There was a beat, in which Chell felt, deep down inside, she knew what was coming.

"He's spiked your oxygen supply with… well. I don't think you'd understand the chemical name even if I could remember it. But it has the same effect as a love potion might. …If I believed in folklore. Which, for the record, I do not, but I'll tell you what I do believe in—your tenacity has always been your most admirable quality. Or, it was."

Chell rolled her eyes.

"It could have been worse, though."

"Yes," said Wheatley loudly, and Chell jumped. She forgot he had been listening. "Her most admirable quality, eh? Too bad it's gone. Stomped it right out of her, didn't I? I don't blame you, though, luv…" his top shutter lowered just as deeply as his voice, "A bloke like me… letting you stay here, in Wheatley Laboratories, giving you room and board in exchange for just a few simple tests… but that's nothing, really. What really matters is we haven't even gotten to the part yet where I show you what I'm capable of giving to you, eh? I think I'm gonna like that part, if I'm honest."

He was panning the camera again, down to his front. Chell's face turned bright red as a sharp shot of heat instantly electrified her spine.

"And judging by that look on your face," Wheatley said sweetly, grinning, "You're gonna love it, too. But as I said before, we can't start yet! Got lots of tests to finish, first. Hundreds. And I want all of them solved, okay, all of them finished properly before we get to you. And… no cheating this time, d'you hear me?" he frowned disapprovingly. "You'll get your little treat when I say so."

She had to hand it to him. He was turning into quite the determined little sphere, that was for sure…

"Right, so where were we?" He asked loudly before perking up on the monitor. "Ah, I know, I know! You were just about to solve this one, weren't you!" he beamed. "Go on, then! Go on! I'm waiting!"

Chell allowed her eyes to rest casually on the shape of his very erect—whatever it was—in the monitor before she'd followed the cube into the funnel and was on her way to the button on the wall. He was excited, and that excitement shot straight down into her own groin making her feel as though the conclusion of the test could almost trigger another sweet conclusion for herself, too. It did not; instead, she'd watched him lift up as if he were aching to have the part on his front stroked, chassis curving into the screen beautifully as he grinned and said in a very deep, husky voice that instantly gave her goosebumps, "Ohhhh. Here we go. Heeere it comes."

She wanted to see it so bad. She wanted to see the cute little twitches his body would go into as the cloth on his front was soaked with robo-cum. She'd wanted to see it, but not only had it been impossible from this angle but the sound he'd made, which at first sounded just as delicious as all the others had, a strained 'aauuuughhh', turned out to be empty of the quality of fire she'd heard in his voice before.

"Oh," he said shortly after when she landed on the platform, "Disappointing."

And, moreover, his front was still dry and, worse still, very very full.

He hadn't gotten a shred of release, and Wheatley was ominously silent about it.

Chell had hoped it was just a glitch in the system.

Until it had happened in the next test.

And in the test after that. Now she was starting to think that they were really in trouble, because not only was Wheatley's stupid pink apron straining worse than ever, and he was yelling and angry again, but she was having a dreadful time concentrating. In fact, she was having such a hard time that she had at first thought his lack of relief had somehow been her own fault—that was, until GLaDOS had explained otherwise.

"He's building up a resistance…" she whispered. "He's not getting his solution euphoria. We could be in a lot of trouble."

Chell didn't like the sound of that.

She liked it even less when she'd entered the lift after a particularly brutal test chamber, her head spinning with arousal from the statement he'd just uttered, "Why are you making this so HARD for me".

"You know, I've been thinking," he drawled, and Chell's back stiffened against the side of the lift, "And I've decided to switch things up a bit."

"Uh oh," said GLaDOS, and a wave of foreboding washed over her even over the excitement that perhaps, finally, he was going to take her up to his lair. The doors hissed shut, and the lift departed.


	8. Intro #3

What is he doing? Chell asked silently.

"Oh, nothing." GLaDOS must have seen the look on her face. "I should have said, this is perfect. He's taking us right to him. …Probably."

Something about the shifty way she'd said that made her pause.

"Okay, fine," she sighed. "I'm a little worried. About you."

Chell cocked her head at the potato.

"And about how you're going to handle this. Because you know, he probably is taking us right to him. And you and I are both very aware of what kind of …experiment… he'd like to perform on you, and what it involves. But what we don't know is what to actually expect."

She frowned. We? It wasn't her he was going to fuck. It was her, and about time, too!

"The procedure is completely untested," she continued as if she couldn't see the disgruntled look on Chell's face. "And possibly dangerous. I don't know. That being said… this could work in our favor."

How so? she wondered.

"You'll see. Just promise me you'll be careful, all right?"

There was a short pause, in which Chell stared down at the potato. GLaDOS was speaking in a way she'd never heard her speak to her in before. She sounded like she was actually concerned about her wellbeing.

But as soon as it had happened, it was gone.

"Nothing personal, of course," said GLaDOS in her usual voice, "It just doesn't seem right for you to be murdered by him. I mean… after all we've been through… It should be me."

The ghost of a smile flitted across Chell's face. I know what you mean.


	9. The Hardware

When the lift arrived and she stepped out, the first thing she saw was Wheatley.

It kind of threw her, for a moment. She'd gotten so used to viewing him from the giant screens, where he'd obviously magnified his face to many times its usual size. It looked quite small, almost dwarfed by his body now that she could properly see the chassis—and oh, she'd forgotten how curvy it was, though somehow much more masculine than GLaDOS's. Wheatley had almost an aggressive look, whereas GLaDOS had appeared dainty despite her size; but Chell wasn't complaining. It was a good look for him, that was for sure—especially with the addition on his front. Still hidden behind the cloth, she could see it straining at the middle to form what was becoming an increasingly familiar lump. He was hard again. There was no doubt about that.

And somehow, it looked even better in 3-D.

"Surprise!" Wheatley greeted her gleefully. "You've probably already figured it out by now, but we're doing it now! Apparently the tests aren't working anymore—something called a resistance, it says here—but no matter. It's still all going according to plan according to the manual, there We've got a way around that because of this nice little program, and you're here now, you've arrived, so it's all fine… and I am feeling tremendously itchy, right on time… Ready to take care of that, luv? Ready to take care of this, uh… monstrosity?"

He looked down at himself and looked back up at her, proud. Chell saw his huge body squirm slightly. That was something nice that had been missing inside of the test chambers—while she could see his face and enough of his front to guess when he was squirming, here she could properly see it, plain as day.

And he was squirming. He hadn't been able to keep still since she'd stepped out of the lift. Upon retrospection, that was a very cute thing about him, he was always moving and fidgeting. It was also very attractive, thought the deep, primal part of Chell's brain that had been awoken by Wheatley's love vapor. Even moreso now that he was right in front of her, and so big. He almost seemed to be trying to relieve himself with moving, and she felt sure, should he have had hands, they'd both be working away under the confines of the apron.

While she'd been feeling markedly better since her—exploration—inside of the test chambers a few tests ago, the sight of him, pitching the joint at his middle in small, rhythmic little motions, made her feel hot and stuffy once more. She felt herself flush immediately. The bit straining on his front lengthened the smallest amount under her gaze. The heat spiked, her hands started sweating, and she put the portal device down onto the floor.

"Hey!" GLaDOS's shout of exasperation went unnoticed. The robot and the woman locked gazes, the intensity between them mounting.

Wheatley stopped moving when this happened, or tried to stop but he was still squirming, she could see it. "But we'll get to the fun stuff soon enough…" he grunted, as if from behind gritted teeth. "Come here, luv. You look so good, even better when you're not behind a screen."

He had her hooked in a trance-like stare at his front. His edginess was clear. Of course he didn't like waiting. With a thick swallow she thought about it—he couldn't just reach down and (her hand curled around the underside of her body) get some whenever he'd liked. He couldn't touch himself or get off manually, he needed her help. He probably didn't even know how it would feel to have that nice, new bit of hardware played with—well, that made two. She didn't know what to expect, either. Chell had been with guys before, she'd learned the basics of how to manipulate it to her will… even if she wasn't the most experienced at it. A pang of nervousness pierced her stomach. What if she wasn't any good?

"For now," said Wheatley, raising the chassis above her head and spinning, "Let's put that away."

He'd meant the portal gun, which was still lying on the floor between them. Chell glanced down quickly at the potato. "It's all right," GLaDOS whispered. "Just do what he says. Unless he orders you to mash me… in which case, don't do what he says. But if he only wants to disarm you, just play along. And plug me into that receptacle, over there, while you're at it."

Chell picked the gun back up, crossed the room, and deposited GLaDOS in the core receptacle, and gave the gun back to Wheatley. She'd half expected him to protest that she was placing GLaDOS somewhere where she had limited access to the facility, but if he cared, he didn't show it. Instead, he instructed her to stand back, and summoned a rather filthy, twin bedstead into the chamber.

They both looked down at it, Chell in surprise, Wheatley with his optic tilted to one side. "Glad I thought of this," he said. "Or, well. Fair enough, it's all in the manual, but still. My idea. A bit smaller than I expected, really," he said thoughtfully. "Dunno how I'm going to fit on that, with you. It's a little too small for me. But the manual said. Dunno how this is going to help, though, if I'm honest." He tilted his face further, peeking at her sideways.

Chell found that she didn't much care what kind of shape the bed was in. She peeled back the filthy comforter to expose semi-clean white linen beneath, and sat down. She was feeling too stuffy to be picky. This close to him, she could sense a kind of buzzing radiating from him—and she could feel a similar sensation building inside of her chest and brain. It felt like her mind was filling with tiny bees. God, she breathed deeply, trying to ignore the sensation of swelling down in her groin as she looked up at him. He was so close… it was driving her mad, she could hardly sit still…

He looked even better like this, somehow. Every inch of him shone. The curve of his lower white plate was the most obviously sleek, disappearing under him to meet up with the neat upper plate at the hinge in his middle that was like his waist—and that was so narrow, she could have wrapped her arms loosely around it, and she felt herself twitch her own hips forward, once again aching for stimulation, her fingers flexing a little as she itched to touch him…

And that urge was what did it, that fiery, sudden urge got her up off the bed without even deciding to and she was around him before he could turn and then her hands were on him. He'd frozen as if in shock and she took full advantage of it and reached up to wrap her hands around the most narrow part of his waist and she was kissing him right on his back, right on the bit that could have passed for his spine. She reached up, fingertips stroking the raised line, running back and forth along the top of it as her lips trailed along the bottom. She felt sure there had to be lots of sensors in there, as all the information from Wheatley's brain had to connect with the facility somehow, and she was taking full advantage of it.

"Ohh," he half-chuckled, half-groaned. she felt the gears slide beautifully as he tried to turn a little to keep her in view, simultaneously trying to keep himself from shaking too much, but she kept up a stream of kisses that, following the urges her body was giving her, turned into lovely, wet trailing suckling and licking just along the subtle creases, and damn she could feel him practically losing control in her hands…

He was crumbling. Trying to keep his voice steady, he gasped, "T-that feels… oh. That's… that's quite good, actually… oh… who showed you how to do this… that's perfect…"

Finally, regaining some semblance of control, he shifted away from her and her mouth tried to follow, craving more of him—the taste, a vague taste like carbon steel, mixed with something almost sweet… he wasn't bitter, like she'd expected… and she wasn't quite sure why he felt so good in her mouth, but oh, he did, and she wanted to keep suckling, keep licking. Was that a human thing? She'd never wanted to lick someone before. It felt strangely satisfying.

Wiping her mouth, Chell sat back down on the bed, now completely full of restless unease—it was starting to ache. Had she really thought it had been bad, back in the chamber before she'd unzipped her jumpsuit? Her middle felt fuller than ever, and her breasts, stomach, and back and, as she had recently observed, mouth, felt absolutely receptive. She wanted to be touched. She wanted roughness, reckless sex, frantic rubbing… everything felt deliciously heightened… all the pleasure she'd gotten out of watching him was doubled, and she was ready, so ready to see that itch of his get solved again and to relieve him of what was now a positively huge bulge on his front. The only thing that could stop her at this point from passionately seeking her own pleasure was to draw as much of it as she could from his body.

God, he had to be big. She wanted to see so badly it took a lot of self-control not to rush things. Above all, she wanted to enjoy this… she wanted to take her time fucking him, that was for sure… her body was going to fight her tooth and nail on it because she was just so damn aroused, but she didn't care. It was his fault, and she wanted to make the most of it.

"Now, luv, you just lie back on the bed," Wheatley instructed, his top shutter dropped in a mix between a disapproving frown and one of the more lustful, sweet looks he'd ever done. "Just like that, yes. Just lie back for old Wheatley, now, he knows what to do. Read the manual, and all."

She felt him move in, and it sent an electrifying pulse to all of her nerve endings. She couldn't move. She couldn't think. Everything was the sensation of him slipping plates as smooth as silk between her legs, the bottom of his chestplate, until he came to rest pressing just lightly against her groin. His face was just above hers, tilted down at her, nearly blinding, and at his front… the now-dry-but-stained front of the apron (which, close to, had the words 'let them eat cake' stitched on the front, she noticed and fuck, that was cute, and she most definitely was, she was going to eat her cake and have it too) was covered in what looked like (but clearly weren't) watermarks, and the way the thing underneath made the front of it point up at her face just drew that much more attention to all of this and the reactions it drew from her body.

…Oh. Clearly, he hadn't been solved in a while.

And the look on his face, god help her, she knew he was feeling exactly what she was feeling. Which was well past turned on. How did either of them even still have a shred of self-control left? How were they not on top of each other already? How was she not tearing that stupid cloth off of him and mounting him, like he deserved? He was gorgeous and sexy and rock hard for her and it was killing her! The only plausible reason had to be how frozen that little shock of pure adrenaline had made her feel.

"Allo," he laughed, smiling awkwardly. His voice was so close, but so quiet. "Uh, fancy meeting you here, luv."

She wanted to ride him. She settled for leaning into him and giving him a short kiss on the side of his optic plate. Wheatley blinked rapidly and then chuckled and stared at her with a tilted optic and the most endearing look she'd ever seen.

"Oh wow, thanks!" he said, sounding distracted as he looked down at her small form partially trapped beneath him, blushing blue. The difference in their sizes was particularly obvious—only the forefront of Wheatley and his small core roughly covered the same area as her body on the bed. Behind his front, the rest of the chassis loomed and glowed beneath a tousle of cables that connected him to the miles of facility.

He wiggled. They stared at each other for a minute, contemplating what they were about to do, each too nervous to make the first move despite how restless and tense they both felt. Chell breathed, and watched, and waited as Wheatley moved with his own breath-like motion, thinking. Chell was first to move; she began to lightly trace the side of Wheatley's apron up to where he'd tied it over his back with a silent giggle. He shifted a bit to allow her access to the knot, and her pupils dilated as she felt his front—the bugle—pushed into her stomach and chest.

She fiddled clumsily with the strings with one hand, the other still tracing the outline of it. Wheatley couldn't keep still. Either the breathing motion he usually moved with was causing him to rub himself gently against her, or he was doing it subconsciously—either way, god it was nice to finally feel him hard and on top of her. She finished untying the last bit of the knot and was able to remove the apron completely.

It came down slowly. She made a point of playing with the strings, twiddling them, wrapping them around him and untwisting them. Then she lowered them, and to her delight his bulge held the apron up overtop of it on its own accord. She let the strings fall, drinking in the sight of him like that. She could now admire the shape of it—the shaft curved slightly up at her, much like the gentle curve the front of his chest plate made. She held her breath, and moved to pull the remaining bit of cloth slowly down.

First, she was greeted with the smooth milkiness of the front of Wheatley's chest plate. Where the hole in the center of it was, was where the piece protruded from. As the last bit of fabric slipped off of it she saw that it was quite phallic indeed—there was that curve she'd glimpsed, nice and subtle but still perceptible, starting at its base where it disappeared from sight to connect with the rest of his body. And it just as large as she'd hoped, not so much as to be overwhelming, but enough to look quite nice on him all the same. It would definitely be fulfilling.

At the top was his head, obviously synthetic but still quite flared and swollen looking, somehow. Perhaps, instead of blood, it was stiff and swollen with hydraulic fluid. Just underneath this, his shaft was knobbly, littered with raised bumps—sensors, maybe?

Regardless, it was wonderful.

"Would you look at that, eh?" he chuckled shyly, pushing it forward into her face. Chell leaned back instinctively. "This looks quite a lot different from how it looked when I first put it away, let me tell you. He was just a teensy little guy! Not anymore. Clearly. And that's all thanks to you, luv. You did that, with your cheating and teasing. Rule breaking." He appeared to wink.

She felt him wiggle a little away from her, before bringing his optic lower to stare her straight in the face. He flicked it down, once, to glance at her still clothed body, before he spoke in a very deep, quiet voice.

"And now it's your turn. Take it off." Chell suppressed a smile at his tone. "Commanding voice…"


	10. The Test

Wheatley was enjoying this quite a lot.

She looked somehow quite nice, her brown skin painted baby blue in the light that always fell from his cracked iris. She looked smooth, and curvy, too, and for a human her movements had always been somewhat graceful. That was the thing that made her such a good test subject, he'd always thought—and that very same quirk was evident to him now more than ever as she smoothed herself out over the bed, face-first, and brought her hips up to him.

So compliant. So welcoming. So good.

It was a very obvious invitation. One that made him inch closer with eagerness and curiosity. He stared down, watching as she steadied herself with her right hand and reached down along the underside of her body with her left, toward the bit at the very back where he'd been staring. He tilted his face as she pressed inward a little bit, circling an apparent sort of hole—the one the manual must have referenced, he thought. The entrance. The port.

It wasn't the nicest looking port he'd ever seen, but he could hardly blame her, really. And it appeared—lubricated. Self-lubricating, he knew, from the manual. He'd done that to her. His success glinted and shone blue reflection. A second later, she seemed to have finished what she was doing and had settled back, waiting on her hands and knees, for him to perform. Wheatley simulated a swallowing sound.

"Well," he said anxiously, "Here we go then, luv."

Having no hands, he made to press the tip of the apparatus into that lower hole by moving his body, but he had missed, at first, and felt the length of him slide smoothly along the crease between her buttocks instead. The woman shifted a little, and her spine seemed to stretch out before him, trailing shivers. "Sorry, aha," he said immediately. "Sorry about that. I'll try again. Yes. Probably for the better, anyways. Afraid I was a little cold there, wasn't I? Sorry!"

Satisfied that he'd taken on at least some of her heat now, he moved back into position again, breathing out a half-sigh as his top shutter descended slightly as he relished her warmth as much as he could. It felt nice, just to rest there—and he wasn't even inside yet! And the alloy this part of him was made of moved so nicely against her skin, it was like- like silk, he believed the human saying went. It glided so easily. They'd have no trouble at all.

All right. Round two, he was back in position. "Here I come, luv," he said, optic slid as low down in his casings as it would go as he tried to keep the head of it in view. "Are you ready for me? I hope you're ready. Because that hole looks a little small, if I'm honest… and I am, as I said before, quite massive. Glad to see you're nice and wet for me."

It was true, he thought. And it seemed to grow larger as he waited! He couldn't wait any longer, though. The itch was simply agonizing inside. He could hardly even move the hinge at his middle, he was so tense!

"I'm itching a rather lot," he paused and stared down at her, suddenly stern. "You'd better help with this, as much as you can, okay? I don't want any of that teasing like before, or worse yet, that cheating. You're going to help, this time. By not moving. You just hold still there and let me do this and finish up and then everything will be juuust… fiiiine."

And as he'd said it, he'd guided the tip of the thing to rest against her hole and he'd pushed, slowly. It took a little wiggling and shuddering but it did slide in without too much effort, first the head and then a few inches down his shaft, and before he knew it his eye had shuttered in appreciation of how she felt. She was warm and he seemed to have entered a space that had been made exactly for his design of plug, a comfy port if there ever was one—shaped exactly to his own, big enough to accommodate him but definitely still snug. He guessed she had noticed, too, that he barely fit, because shudders rolled through her body as she stretched and arched. Her legs automatically widened of his own accord and he was able to wiggle a bit further in.

He felt a little pressure along the shaft as her spine stretched out again and she squirmed when he did this. He felt that a reminder was in order. "I said, hold still, remember. I'm going to do this. Let Wheatley do this. I'm the one in charge of this… this was my idea…" He applied a little more pressure, swaying his chassis back and forth an inch or two to produce a little wiggling motion to help him get the full length inside. Only once the smooth skin of the back of her buttocks made contact with the front of his chestplate did he stop, resting there, allowing her to regain her breath with a look of triumph on his face.

He hadn't noticed at first, but she'd begun breathing rather hard. He could feel that, sort of—or well, feel how tense she was, through their connection. He wasn't exactly sure why, but humans could be quite odd, so he didn't bother to ask. This was like a test, after all—and testing usually got her breath and heart rate right up, so it did make sense that this could too, he supposed.

"All right," he said quietly with another little wiggle that made her gasp. "Let's just…" he tapered off. He quite liked it like this, nestled between her buttocks, his plug inserted as far as it would go. It was giving him some sort of low-level pleasure, too, not like the testing had been, but it was still nice, all the same. It made him want to stretch and groan, he was so restless and full of itchiness. Going in had been even better, but sitting there, not moving, just feeling… oh, it was so good to have something, after so long. He let his eye shutters drift slowly closed before he opened them and stared down at her.

"Let's pick this up a little," he murmured, still staring at her back as if it were about to utter instruction at him. It kind of did—as soon as he'd edged back out a little, he saw her tense right up again. Good, good—tense probably was the way to go, he knew, judging by how the testing had made him feel, in the past. It was important to tense up, it made the solution feel even better, somehow… so with this logic, he began to rock himself back and forth, not fully pulling himself out because he didn't want to lose the connection they were having, but just a few inches… just enough to get a little static going between them…

And static, oh, did it did build up…

That was the thing about friction. It was like magic. You just needed a little charge, a little spark, and then it felt so good to rub back and forth. And static was different from all other forms of electricity, some were extremely pleasurable, and some were extremely painful—but static was a different kind of feeling. It had a slow build-up, and a surprising and intense release.

It was the unpredictability of it that made it so good. You'd just be there, rubbing yourself along something, feeling the excitement and—bam. All the build-up would release in an electrifying pulse. Just zap.

He let himself drift into it a little, enjoying the sensation of the lady's body as he thought. It was prickly, almost, the sensation of the receptors on his plug all lighting up from that growing static charge, and transmitting the sensory data back along his nice thick shaft back to the bit that extended inside of his case and arched up into his processing unit. He liked how it did that in little bursts that went along with his movements, which changed very slightly in sensation depending on how he moved. It made little stars wink in his vision.

He wondered, vaguely, what it was like for her. There was no way she could be nearly as responsive as he was. He was the one using her, after all—rubbing himself against her port how he liked best. It did seem that she was liking it too, but he wasn't too concerned about that, just now.

She'd begun to move with him. When he'd lift up at the hinge in his middle she'd push backward and he'd slide in gently but firmly, all the way until the white front of his plate met her butt with a soft sound. Immediately he'd let his hinge relax and his front would fall and she'd pull back and he'd feel the ridge at the top of his head scrape gently at her entire length, like that, and he'd feel cold air on his shaft for a second until they both rose in expectation of another thrust.

He was really, really beginning to like it. He started making noise. He felt so full of pleasurable static it was beginning to fill his brain.

"Ohh, luv," he absolutely sighed, leaning into her a little longer than usual so that she was the one to pull away, this time. "This feels really good."

He'd meant to elaborate, but at the moment, he was too lost in the sensations of it. She, too, was lost, judging by all the wiggling and squirming she was doing—Wheatley guessed it must be hard, having to stay still, like that. He was doing most of the work, not that he minded… he didn't think he'd have been able to keep still even if he'd tried. The itch was urging him on, commanding him to continue the intoxicating motion, but it wasn't ready to burst, yet—but he was almost there, if he had to guess, using testing as a reference.

But the build-up to this, unlike the testing, was so good. It felt good. All of it.

"Auuuughhhhhh," he sighed as her hips drove back rather forcefully onto him and he couldn't stop himself from raising his front. Ohh. God, it felt close. He was absolutely going to lose it. She rose, too, tensing right up, and edged forward to the headboard and he followed immediately, reluctant to slip out of her. He watched in awe as she clung to the headboard and used it as leverage to push herself back onto him, hard, the muscles under the skin of her shoulders and arms flexing. Ohhhh… so she wanted to play hard… he met her challenge passionately. As good as it felt to just let her do it, he was supposed to be using her… regardless, he allowed her a few moments to herself, in which he kept as still as he could with his front raised at the perfect angle for her to bounce on while she panted, pushing and pulling against the headboard.

The static feeling kept mounting, evolving into the complete vibrating hum of feedback. He couldn't think. Everything was the feeling of her riding him, the feeling of the front of his chestplate sticking to her back with each thrust from the moisture seeping between her legs, the tense sensation in his middle growing so intense he hardly thought he could take it. He started moving again, trying to match her rhythm like he did before and it felt so great, he groaned, moaned, so deeply his voice vibrated along his shaft and spread right into her body.

He heard her gasp. He gasped, too, their middles meeting with a frantic, oddly wet sound, but he didn't care. He was almost there, after so long, and oh, it was going to be good… it had been so good when there hadn't been a long, pleasurable build-up, he couldn't even imagine how this one was going to feel… it was strong, oh, filling him up a hard with pressure, oh, he was going to burst…

She must have known what was going to happen a second before it did because she'd pulled back at the last second before sliding him deep and instantly, he broke out in shudders and cried out. Stars started bursting in front of his eye as the static mounted and then seemed to drag along him, hypersensitizing everything, and then the zap came rolling through him in a spider's web of pleasure, reaching out from what felt like the epicenter, his equipment. He could feel himself moving but he had no control over it, his chassis arching up into her on its own accord. He leaned back, staring unseeingly… and that familiar, warm-something came gushing out of his plug again and right into her, filling her up, oozing out the sides. It was more, a lot more than there had been before, he was dimly aware as he'd collapsed, finally finished.

"Oh, bloody…"

He was panting. He slipped out of her, squeezing his eye tightly shut.


	11. The Idea

Chell was not satisfied.

She had not had her orgasm yet. She watched Wheatley longingly as he removed himself from her, her bottom lip quivering. He'd finished spectacularly, but she was still aching and needy and soaking wet.

It hadn't been like back in the test chamber. That time, her orgasm had come relatively easily, and quickly. But here, with him inside of her? Oh, the stimulation had been driving her wild, but it was almost too much. It felt like her body somehow had responded to such wild stimulation by hiking up her own tolerance. It was the inverse of the testing—while, in the test chambers, Wheatley could no longer reach his end, this sort of test had Chell hovering terribly on the edge.

Not that it was a fair comparison, really. Wheatley was promised to never receive another lovely burst because of the testing protocols, whereas she—technically speaking, there was nothing keeping her from enjoying a lovely burst herself any time she wanted. Not biologically, at least.

That was, unless he'd somehow wired this supposed testing vapor to make her unable to reach an orgasm. She bit her lip. It didn't seem like something he would not do, but at the same time, she doubted that that was a side effect of the vapor. It felt more like she was just too wound tight to relax.

Wheatley was working on something. It looked like yet another test chamber. Chell watched him with mild interest, her fingers stroking the moist outside of her folds. It felt so good to touch herself, there—she still wanted desperately some release, but she was determined, she was tenacious—she didn't want to get it unless it was him giving it to her, like he'd just been doing. That was what Chell wanted, and what Chell wanted, she was going to get.

"Hey."

The voice was quiet, but it made Chell start. Immediately, she looked at Wheatley to see if he'd noticed it, but he was still absorbed in whatever it was he was doing.

"How're you holding up?"

Chell glanced around, trying to see where the Potato's voice was coming from, but she couldn't see a hint of her glowing yellow optic anywhere. Where are you? She wanted to ask.

"It doesn't matter where I am," whispered GLaDOS, as if she could read her mind. "What's important is, is that you're all right. He hasn't hurt you, has he?"

Chell shook her head, still wondering how she could see her.

"Good," continued GLaDOS, volume lowering even further as Wheatley swayed a little in front of the monitor. "Because I've got an idea, and I'm going to need your help with it."

Again, Chell noticed there was something shifty about her voice, and it got her attention at once. All right… she thought grimly, through the haze of arousal that was still burning inside of her. God, it was hard to think…

"I need hands."

What?

The strange statement had caught her off-guard, but she recovered quickly. Looking at her own glistening palms, she waved them at nothing in particular.

"No—not your hands. Your hands are malleable," said GLaDOS, her whispered voice dripping with disdain. "I'm not even calling you fat—this time. It is solid, science-based fact that your hands are simply too delicate to carry out this procedure. I need something robotic. And I think I know just where to get it."

There was a pause, in which Chell cocked an eyebrow curiously—but a second later, Wheatley's huge form moved slightly, revealing the contents of the monitor, and she gasped.

Oh.


	12. The Interruption

There were a lot of reasons why Chell would never truly belong inside the facility. For one, her tenacity—she had been REJECTED for a reason. She was a variable, nearly a mathematical impossibility—something that, at first thought, you'd think would fit in with the chaos and insanity that made up such a place. But it did not, because at its heart, the facility was far from disorganized.

Or, so it was when GLaDOS was in charge. This was why Aperture needed GLaDOS. She was the ringmaster, she kept all of that chaos and crosstalk at bay. She was the peacekeeper, the mother, she was God—she was the link between all channels, the indispensable, all-seeing monitor of communications. You could say, that she had an 'ear' for that sort of thing—she was built for it, after all. She had the brain the size of a city. She could read code at a million words per minute, write simple programs in ten seconds flat. There was a reason it was supposed to be her in charge of this place.

Wheatley, though—Wheatley was like Chell, but worse. He was a bit 'deaf' to the never-ending processes stampeding endlessly from every single corner of the facility, all the time. To him, the crosstalk was deafening and annoying, nearly a language outside his range of hearing.

It was this language of code that Chell could not speak. But thankfully, she did not need to be able to speak it—as she was to be the distraction, while her interpreter sent out pulses of instructions from her feeble connection to the mainframe. The walls would listen to her, she knew, as she was their true boss… and all she had to do was keep Wheatley busy, perhaps too blissed out to listen, while GLaDOS went ahead with the plan she'd concocted.

"Still hungry, are you?" Wheatley's voice was low and rumbly, close enough to her ear to send shivers down her spine. He was still pumping that delightful vapor, she knew—she could almost taste it. It was like a musk, coming from him, now… heavy on the air, his scent was heady and made her feel reckless. The heat that had grown between them was still climbing higher as he rubbed against her, grinding. It was making her drunk.

The smooth front of his chest was against her nude groin. She leaned back, trying to pull herself together as he rolled against her, pressing the front of himself in firmly. He was growing harder again, leaning back so that his lengthening dong wouldn't get in the way of their connection. Chell's breath grew heavy as the moisture between her legs caused the smooth, cool metal of his chest plate to stick to her clit each time he removed the pressure. The re-application of pressure almost made her eyes roll back in her head.

God, it was a great massage.

She felt herself slowly beginning to relax. That was, everything except for her groin, which was being consumed with burning need again—she felt full and hot, and could not stop herself from moving her hips in time with him, they were so tense. She let her head fall back, fully enjoying the feeling of him sliding damply along her opening.

He chuckled a bit, looking down at himself. He was quite hard again, and he drew attention to it by rolling forward with a few short, sharp thrusts, making it wobble slightly, teasing her. The sight of it made her want to moan.

He was nearly impossible to resist, and before she knew what she was doing, her hands were on him, her mouth. Her lips stretched tight around his thick head, pushing her tongue flat against the bottom of her mouth. Oh, he tasted good, he tasted like a mix of her fluids and his own—a mix of simple sugars meant to simulate semen and the bitterness of her lubrication. He made a noise of disbelief and lifted himself up, allowing her better access. She inhaled deeply through her nose, closed her eyes, and began to suck.

~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~

It wasn't long before she had little to no control left. Wheatley was clearly enjoying it, giving her a steady stream of instructions. "Oh, yes," he'd groan. "Just like that, luv, but no need to go so deep, make it shallow and fast—yes, suck the head, ohh—" he talked her through it. She had one hand resting between her legs, a fingertip circling the little nub, there—but god, it was driving her insane. It wasn't enough. She wanted to mount him.

Before long, it seemed like Wheatley was ready to come again. "Oh, here we go," his voice shuddered, mirroring what he'd said earlier in the testing chambers. Chell felt him arch forward, heard the minute noises of his mechanics shifting as his eye rolled full-circle in anticipation of it, but then she'd stopped and removed him from her mouth.

"What?" he gasped, looking down at her in surprise.

Me first, she stared resolutely. Finish me first.

He looked confused, for a moment. "Oh," he said distantly, as if the haze of pleasure was still clouding his mind, making it harder work to think than it normally was. "I know what this is. You must want… what did she call it, then? When you were down there, cheating, in the test, and I thought you were dying? Oh, I remember—an orgasm, whatever that is—is it like science? Because science…" his optic closed and rolled, "Science feels pretty good, if I'm honest."

Chell nodded immediately.

"All right, luv." He removed himself from Chell's body. "I've got an idea. You lie down there nicely for me, on the bed, yeah? We'll do it differently this time. Doesn't hurt to try something new, does it?"

As per his instructions, Chell stretched out on the bed on her back instead of her stomach this time, and propped a pillow under her head. Wheatley then moved forward between her legs, which she spread wider to accommodate his size. More practiced this time at lining himself up, Chell felt the tip of his head make contact with her moist labia, before it slid easily inside.

He was filling her up, and immediately, she felt dizzy—her middle stretched out, back arching, lungs filling up as he kept pressing into her—until finally, she felt the forefront of his chest meet the front of her pubic bone and he stopped.

The pressure of him leaning gently against her clit was delicious, as was the fullness of him inside. She felt more swollen than ever, and fought her body to keep relatively still and relaxed—she wanted to enjoy this. It became even more difficult when Wheatley started to move.

While last time, he had started slow and gentle, this time, he was a bit more forceful. This suited her fine, as she was already more than halfway there, it felt like—his thrusts were short and a little rapid, and seemed to be aimed at going as deeply as he could without hurting her. It was perfect stimulation.

He must have known that whatever he was doing was working, because he didn't stop. She felt herself getting more and more excited as he slowly increased the pace, keeping up the short thrusts and the angle—oh, in this position, the smooth curve of his dong meant that the top and ridge of his head were aimed right at what felt like the most sensitive spot inside of her. He was right there, milking it for all its worth, and each time his chest would bump into her clit, the stickiness collecting on his front from her juices would cause it to stick to him. The slight pull of suction was amazing, adding to the stimulation in the most wonderful way.

It was perfect… she could hardly breathe or think, let alone anything else—her only option was to lie back and enjoy what he was doing to her, to focus on the sensations and the way he was getting her body to respond. It was unreal. She felt the excitement mounting, the tightness and swelling in her abdomen growing until it seemed to reach this stage where her blood rushed in her ears and she knew that, any second now, one particularly good move from him would send her cascading over the edge…

It happened slowly… the pleasured noises he was making seemed to fade away as the stimulation mounted… and then, she breathed in as it rolled through her, filling her up, more intense than anything ever. Instantly, trailing shudders chased along her spine, from her head to her toes. Her abs tightened, her back arched, and she called out soundlessly, blinded. It was almost too good, too much, a sensory overload and as he worked her through it, he seemed to prolong it, until finally he slowed down enough to allow her to breathe and think again.

It took her a moment to regain full control of herself. Jesus, she thought dimly, shaking. She was almost relieved when she finally felt him slip out of her, and hardly registered the fact that he was looking at her closely.

"Are you all right?"

She opened her eyes to stare at him blearily. It was hard to focus, and she didn't feel all-there—but he must have got the message, because he seemed satisfied with her response.

"That good, huh?" his optic grinned, and he puffed up, proud of himself. "I knew it. I knew I was the best. Bloody told you so. Told her, too, but she didn't listen, ha ha ha," he chuckled, showing off, before his expression changed to a more serious one. "Hey—speaking of her… did she see that? I hope she saw that."

It was this that brought Chell back to the present, out of her afterglow with a snap and her heart jumped into her throat. Oh no… she was supposed to be keeping him distracted from her!

"Actually…" said Wheatley slowly, "Where is she?" His eye settled on the core receptacle she'd plugged the potato into earlier, but it was gone. Wheatley's chassis immediately regained tension and he started circling the room, frantic.

Down on the bed, Chell waved her arms to no avail, her heart hammering inside of her chest.

"WHERE IS SHE?" yelled Wheatley suddenly, clearly afraid. "Where are you? You can't hide from me, I'll find you—I'll—!"

GLaDOS's voice cut through the terror in the chamber like ice. "Moron."

Wheatley twirled around, almost dancing with fright. "I know you're in here!" Chell followed suit, peering around to try to find where GLaDOS's voice was coming from, trying to calm herself down, to be logical and find a solution to this—

"Actually, I'm not," said GLaDOS coldly. "But that's beside the point, because in a minute, you're not going to be in there anymore, either."

"What d'you—" started Wheatley, his voice high with sheer panic. Chell looked around wildly, wondering what to do. "What d'you mea—hey!"

There was a sudden noise—an odd, tri-tone beep—and, recognizing it in a nick of time, her lightning-fast reflexes propelled her off the bed and she hit the ground hard, knocking the wind out of herself.

But, it was better than the alternative.

Behind her, the bed she had been sitting on exploded into a million pieces.

"AAAAAAAAAAGHHHH!"

Not knowing exactly what was happening behind her, Chell kept her head down, as low to the ground as it would go. Her nostrils filled with the smell of her burned bed as she heard a loud, repetitive, squeaky sound, almost like the elastic of her long-fall-boots, but more robotic. A pair of heavy-set footsteps joined in, and there was a distinct, deep and rippling grumble of a voice that was answered by a high warble—and then, the warning sound of a rocket turret locking onto its target again—before a whoosh and a hair-raising scream.

"Surprise," GLaDOS growled with pleasure through the chamber, echoing even over Wheatley's whimpers. "We're doing it now."


	13. The Conclusion

In retrospection, Chell knew that she would forever be in GLaDOS's debt.

Once she'd gotten back into her chassis, GLaDOS had reversed the "testing" protocols that Wheatley had so unwisely initiated, and set everything back to normal.

It was like coming down from a high.

The memories of what had happened seemed distorted, somehow—as if her subconscious was partly trying to block them out. She felt like, that person inside of the test chambers, the one that had been with Wheatley inside of his lair, the one that had submitted for him, the test subject who had been writhing in pleasure because of his ministrations was a different person entirely. The memories felt like they must have belonged to somebody else.

However, the anger was there over what he had done, in full force. So was the desire to exact revenge.

But right now—hours later, she was in GLaDOS's chamber, and it was silent. She wasn't thinking of Wheatley. She was enveloped in the loudest silence she'd ever heard in her life, stretching between herself and her ex-arch-nemesis of an AI hanging down from the ceiling in front of her. Chell shifted her weight from one foot to the other, trying not to look at her, praying she wasn't going to say what she thought she was going to say.

But GLaDOS's tone caught Chell off guard.

It wasn't disdainful, or full of hatred, or disgust. It wasn't even full of cruel amusement like she'd thought it would be.

It was full of sadness.

"There's something I want to say to you."

Chell chanced the smallest of glances up at her. GLaDOS wasn't looking at her. Instead, she seemed to be very interested in a speck of dust lying on the chamber floor.

"It isn't easy…" she began again. "For someone like me to say. But, I'll be honest—I think we'll both agree… that you've been through enough today. So have I."

They shared eye contact for a moment. Chell felt a pang as she looked upon her. She was right, of course. It was a lot to take in, and the most mind-boggling thing about it was how much it had changed the relationship she had had with GLaDOS, if you could call it a relationship. Things would never be the same again.

"I just wanted you to know, that you did well." A shadow of disbelief must have shown on Chell's face, for a moment later, GLaDOS added, "Sincerely. You are… unique. I've never met anyone harder to kill than you."

She couldn't hold back a ghost of a smile.

"However, I know now that there is someone worse than even you out there," said GLaDOS, and looked to her left. Inside a pneumatic tube, a claw swayed slightly in the breeze, clamped hard onto what was clearly a very terrified, blue-eyed core. "I never thought that was possible, but science has proved it."

They both looked at Wheatley for a moment, before GLaDOS asked a final question. "What should I do with him?"

Chell grinned in reply, and shrugged.

"I thought you might say that." Suddenly, GLaDOS's voice got a lot stronger. "Would you like to do the honours?"

She hesitated.

"Of course, after we finish, you're free to go."

Chell thought for a moment. She looked up at the AI towering over her. She looked at her sleek frame, the smooth white alloy of her face plate, and into her golden-yellow optic. Then, she looked behind her hulking chassis, to the lift standing ready and waiting with its door wide open. Then, her eyes shifted back to GLaDOS, and her expression changed from one of confusion and disbelief, to a challenging one of sheer, dangerous determination.

Let's finish this.


End file.
